


Radioactive

by WickedDecay



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Blood and Gore, Character Death, Gore, Hints of Bioshock influences, Human Experimentation, M/M, Mutation, The Administrator was a very cruel woman, There was other versions of the RED and BLUE teams, Violence, animal experimentation, bioshock crossover, kind of anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 09:20:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19059742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedDecay/pseuds/WickedDecay
Summary: Taking over both companies in a single swoop, the Administrator turns her attention to the minerals and gold lying just beneath the wasteland of 2Fort. She begins experimentation, mutating the originals of the clones she had once used to battle one another endlessly in futile attempts at victory. Now lumbering beasts protected psychotic doctors in order to harness enough radioactive blood for her new endeavors to be of any consequence.Within the large caverns and crevasses of this underground hell, away from fresh air and only a sliver of sky to be seen, it’s not just the failed experiments that the mining crew have to look out for…





	Radioactive

**Author's Note:**

> Characters:  
> \- Medic - Gisfrid – German – Pledge for peace  
> \- Heavy - Kazimir – Russian – Commands peace  
> \- Heavy and his Medic (Obviously)
> 
> Words:  
> (German)  
> \- My protector – Mein Schutz  
> \- Good boy - braver Junge, guter Junge  
> \- Make me a naughty boy - Machen Sie mich einen frechen Jungen  
> \- Touch me - berühren Sie mich  
> \- Raus - Go  
> \- Fess – so tired  
> \- Was ist los? – What’s the matter?  
> \- Kuschelbar - Cuddlybear  
> \- Ich habe Angst – I’m scared  
> \- Ziemlich - Pretty  
> \- Ich hatte solche Angst – I was so scared  
> \- Ich liebe dich – I love you  
> \- So viel – So much  
> (Russian)  
> \- Privet - Hello  
> \- Spasido – Thank you  
> \- Wed’ma - Witch  
> \- Durak - Stupid  
> \- Mudak - Bastard  
> \- Poshyol ty’ – Fuck you  
> \- Do svidaniya – Goodbye  
> \- Dorogoy – Darling  
> \- Khoroshiy mal’chik – Good boy  
> \- Neposlushnyy – Naughty  
> \- Ya tebya lyublyu - I love you  
> \- Otoydi ot Menya – Get behind me  
> \- Otstupyat – Back off  
> \- Poydem – Let’s go  
> \- Horosho - Excellent  
> \- Ya tebya lyubulyu slishkom – I love you too  
> \- Khoroshiy - Good
> 
> Items:  
> \- Blighted mask – a bird mask like that in Bioshock  
> \- Vita-Saw – A syringe that look lithe the one from Bioshock  
> \- Ubersaw – a curved twin blade with a syringe in between them  
> \- Teutonic ?  
> \- Medi-Mask – like a gas mask for when you paint  
> \- Brass Beast – a gold plated minigun  
> \- Bandolier – ring of large bullets

*************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Chapter 1  
Scavenging for green blood

Underneath the scorched and cracked visage of the flat desert landscape, under the rock, stone and dust, was a hollowed out core of sin that seemed to only deepen as the seconds passed. The divided land, split evenly between two brothers long since gone, had been overthrown and conquered by the very individual they had deemed the benefactor. Legal papers backing her claim, the Administrator seized control of both sides, continuing to fuel their egos, to keep the need for war alight, if only for her sick pleasures and in the name of science. 

However, after accidently discovering a trove of what would spark thousands of glorifying steps towards science of all kinds, she terminated the RED vs. BLU project with a sneer of disgust. Gathering her underlings, whose only purpose was to please her every whim, her highest dogs descended into the chasms below.

They returned, her military dogs trained to be not only her protectors but also her slaves, bring tidings of good fortune and ill will.

Deep within these bowels of the underground, were generous amounts of gold and diamond deposits, something the father of RED and BLU did not see beyond the ashes and stone. Completely dismissing the treasures beneath it all, two teams were chosen to wage a pointless war between themselves, all in an effort to gain territory over a landscape dry of any plant or animal life. According to her loyal pets, there were more than enough veins within this forsaken hell to last for years.

But there was a line of defence, something Mother Nature herself had developed solely to scrap at her ire. As the crew of her secret order came back, many were suddenly ill and weak, vomiting violently till their hearts stopped. Others paled like ghosts, ashen and sick, peculiar lumps appearing over their backs and chests. Weeks later, half of her highly trained squad had died.

Scientists confirmed what she had been expecting, a radioactive deposit, something half manmade, the other completely natural, was festering like a cancer down below. Using the mutilated blood of her fallen pets, she turned to the deemed useless clones of the RED and BLU armies, deciding it was best to give them one more run. After much splicing and failed attempts, there was success. The clones’ eventually developed an immunity towards the hazardous environment, able to survive for days, weeks at a time, before needing to return to the surface for healing.

At their success at the mining of priceless gems by the bucketful, the Administrator decided to let her imagination wander, twist and flex, ushering out the weak out of the nine mercenaries and using only what she needed. She refined their genomes further, crafting a new breed of animal that would bark and sit and die at a mere snap of her fingers.

More importantly, they would mine every last bit of gold and jewels this wasteland had to offer, offering the bounty of treasures to her like a queen on a throne. Like a dragon coiling around the priceless galloons and doubloons of gold and diamonds, she hid them away deep within her fortress, continuing to use Builders League United and Reliable Excavation Demolition as a forefront.

It was her goal to keep the gems and lore a secret, until she had refined the other glowing treasure that was giving birth to thousands of opportunities man had thought once impossible.

Only a year and a half later, the crystalized radiation would be used to its fullest potential…

Within the catacombs, two Engineers shivered in the chilled underbelly of the earth, huddling close to the line of lights that was strung across the side of the tunnel. They flickered, bright and harsh, a few bugs that had ventured down below in hopes of food, racing blindly against and around the brilliance. 

The tunnels themselves we massive, from floor to arched roof a staggering seventy feet tall and well over eighty feet wide. The network of channels were honeycomb, a wasp nest of escape route, looping turns and dead ends, borrowing deeper in hungering greed. The only thing keeping them upright were thick steel girders riveted together and the occasional pillar or two standing erect in the middle of the tunnels. The only thing that kept the excavation squads from getting hopelessly lost were the bright neon signs nailed to the rigid stone wall every now and again.

Both Texan males adorned in a white shirt, stained with grease and filth, as well as navy overalls, huffed out plumes of pale smoke, the smoky trail ghosting passed their eyes like a mirage. They were clones of the original Engineer and had nearly all his physical and psychological traits, though some were skipped over from one doppelganger to the next. It was a puzzling glitch in the cloning system but one that did not hinder too much of the effectiveness of each individual.

It was excusable.

The one devoid of goggles, fumbled with yellow gloved hands over the chilled earth, groping blindly for his treasure. He cursed and chewed at his tongue, not ignorant of his brother’s agitation, the clone behind him practically dancing on his heels. The other, eyes hidden behind his trademark ocular wear and his yellow hardhat, jumped at every creak and hiss, the walls contracting and expending like a chest cavity as the temperature dropped.

Nightfall was upon them and the mere realization of this fact made the other shiver in terror.

A whisper of a hiss, angry and curt, reached his ears and it rattled him like chimes in the wind, recognizing the sound instantaneously. Whipping around towards the direction of the sudden noise, his face stretched in dawning panic.

It wasn’t the infamous pair that much was certain, but it was something almost as dark.

Although nothing but a dark abyss looked back at him, unblinking and sinister, years of trudging down these hollow catacombs told him otherwise. They were being hunted, stalked like animals in a cage by a creature the Administrator had created not too long ago.

“Shit…shit, Thomas.” He called, garbing hold of the crouched man’s shoulders and giving it a good shake, not daring to move his eyes away from the dark pit. He was feeling it up, looking for the shape of a carnivorous body within the shadows.

“We ‘ave go to get outta ‘ere right now! Forget that stupid necklace an’ pony up!”

The male angrily shrugged him off, snarling over his shoulder, “It was my wife’s you gutless coward! What makes you ‘hink I’m going to forget it so easily?”

Although they both were lucky enough, or perhaps unlucky enough, to know that all their combined memories and dreams were a factitious lie. Most clones lived in a rosy coloured daydream, believing that there was a loving family or wife back home, receiving the checks, anxious for their safe return. It was a blissful state of peace, ignorance that seemed all the more present when they couldn’t even notice that each of their wives, should the original have any, were the same.

It could have been the effect of mental conditioning or processing obstacle suggested when they were being born into a tank. Away of obscuring the only loophole that would have caused an instantaneous revolt within the ranks, regardless of which class they were aligned to. Not many could remember much of any tank though, still believing they had come into this rich world of horrors and delights wet with blood and guts, screaming for mother and her milk. 

Regardless, it was a moot point, since only a select few, one out of fifty, seemed capable of seeing passed the white picket fence and the true horror that lay behind it.

It was possible that their combined enlightenment was not being overly observant but simply a glitch in the programing. He and Thomas could have been the rejects that had been immune or had ignored the encoding all their brothers in arms had received.

Nevertheless, knowing what they did, and even those before them in the same situation, clung to those false words like a newborn babe would to its mother. It was the only familiar thing they had left to feel and it was possibly the only assurance they had, considering the true expanse of the world caused a wave of panic to throttle them senseless.

Live a lie or die hopeless in our own enlightenment.

Being exactly what they should have been was so much easier.

Frantic, the slightly taller male turned away from the pitch black, hands akimbo on his hips. “The rest of the crew has already hauled ass out of this hellhole!” he pointed a finger towards the direction he had been looking in, momentarily forgetting about the danger.

This hadn’t been the first time they had been late to roll call and it most certainly wasn’t the first time the older of the two had dropped his priceless locket. It had almost become some stupid comedy routine between them, banter for laughs, expect many times they had come too close to brushing death. There were only so many times you could dodge a bullet before it hit.

Humans did weaken over time, the accuracy of a gun, not so much.

“In case you haven’t noticed, an’ how you haven’t is lost on me boy, but we’re not dead.” Thomas retorted icily, resuming his groping with brusque movements, “They can’t do a single ‘hing to us while our hearts are still tickin’.”

“They can do what they god-damn please once the bloodsuckers start creepin’ around ‘ere.” He groaned anxiously, glancing back towards their only way out, “I just ‘eard one!”

Again the male shrugged off the other’s pleas, shifting around in his squatted position, fingers clutching a little more hurriedly. The puffs of waxen fog flickered a pace quicker than before, his grunting as he prodded the dark muted light loud enough to reach the other’s ears.

“They ain’t nothin’ but scoundrels, too cowardly to attack more than one person at a time.” He reasoned, tossing a chuck of stone and dirt away in annoyance.

The male’s panic had evaporated completely, now vivid, a red hue flushing across his nose as his shoulders bunched. The creases of his wrinkling nose and cheeks as the lips pulled back only seemed to redden the hue. “Thomas, I will be kickin’ your tail out of this here cave in five seconds if you don’t saddle up right now!”

Thomas looked over again, elbows braced on his protected kneecaps. Even the yellow helmet and the poor lighting couldn’t even begin to hide the boiling rage that was twisting like a snake in this man’s eyes. That locket was the only peace he had even if it was all make-believe. It was the only thing that gave him hope.

If the situation had been different, the taller of the two would have frowned and slunk away in shame, knowing all too well how difficult it was to stray away from the falsehood. It was in their DNA to want their wife, even if they both were factory rejects, not entirely up to the listed snuff.

“Then do me a sincere favour an’ scram, Hudson! I sure as hell don’t need you or anybody!” he whipped an arm haphazardly in a shoving motion, “Slither on back home for all I care. I ain’t leavin’ without that necklace.”

Hudson paused for only a second, his eyes wide in shock though the goggles concealed it well. His partner, the one he only agreed to befriend because of his understanding of what was really going on, was starting to sound far to akin to the other Engineers. Was it possible that even as defected as they were, the programing of memory or perhaps even what little conditioning they had retrained, was enough to wrap them towards the artificial light anyway?

Was their uniqueness nothing but a temporary state till the backup systems in case of an emergency booted up?

Yes they had had this fight before, but the hostility and desperation that Hudson saw now was nothing like the minor care he had seen so many times before. Yes it had escalated at some point, but this was an entirely different view of the spectrum.

What he saw before him was a man firmly set in believing that that woman in that gold plated locket was in fact his one and only.

His voice was low as he spoke, amazed at what he was now hearing. “Keep thinkin’ like that an’ you will be an obituary.”

Throwing his arms up in fury, Thomas stood up with a grunt, lunging towards the other with fists clutched. “I told you get a move-”

A hideous flicking of a tongue and a vengeful hiss stopped the Texan short, a scurry of footfalls driving the true extent of the danger they were in home. Like the final nail through the coffin lid, Hudson was all too aware that their chances of escaping with all their limbs, let alone their lives, were snuffed out.

What drove that icepick of fear further into Hudson’s frozen heart was the number of footsteps he heard.

Two.

There were two of them.

“-Shit.” Thomas finished, brushing the dirt from his gloves as a nervous tick.

The abrupt human sound brought wind back into Hudson’s deprived lungs and with it a sense of time. His heart fluttered back to life from its iced over state though it arched as it seemed to slimed down slowly away from his chest cavity.

“Damnit….dagnabit, damnit!” cursed the taller male, turning towards his counterpart with evident panic, “There’s Bottom-Feeders creepin’ around ‘ere. We gotta do!”

They were far too close; he could almost smell the death…

Thomas shook his head in defiance, dropping back down to the ground in a heartbeat, fingers combing the dirt, “I can’t leave without it!”

“Thomas!” Furious and scared, Hudson lunged towards his friend and comrade, grabbing him by his shoulders and heaving him off the earth. 

In a second he whirled the stunned Engineer around, grasping a glove full of filthy shirt and suspenders and pulled, dashing towards another hole. They would have to loop around the preying monsters, get the drop on them by out flanking their shaded positions.

The shock quickly wore off not more than five steps away from the moment he had been pulled off the ground. Snarling like a bull in front of a red flag, the Texan pulled up his arms and jerked them back, causing the other to stumble away from him. 

“Fuck off Hudson!” he screeched, whirling back around again and hurling himself to the ground on all fours. A cloud of dust and dirt whirled around him at the impact.

Hudson stumbled and was about to wheel around again when a blur of movement stopped him dead, two slender creatures hurtling towards the frantically groping comrade. They had been separated and now the mistake was going to cost them dearly.

Frozen, the male could only watch as the pair encircled and cornered their prey to the rocky wall, claws extended to the width of four inch razor blades. 

Standing six feet tall and over twenty seven feet long respectively, they were a bizarre cross between a Velociraptor and a standard aquarium bottom-feeder. It was the combined features of their face and the fins over their bodies that bestowed the name onto them, the blood red fins along the back and tail twitching with glee. Rectangular in shape, their skulled were slender, the typical puckering mouth on the underside of the jaw, filled with rows of concealed, yet deadly fangs. Another set of crimson fins, under the root of the jaw on either side, also flickered and flapped.

Bug-eyed, they spat and hissed, fins twitching, approaching with caution yet blatant hunger, looking the trembling morsel up and down. Their tanned scales were too dusty and cracked to gleam in the muted light, blackened strips cascading town their spines only further concealed them in the dark.

They originally were not supposed to resign here, just a simple attempt at achieving the power of God by bringing an extinct beast back from the ashes like a fiery phoenix. The process had half worked, the DNA that was missing was replaced with countless others, either because the code didn’t fit or the Administrator was testing her options like a lady in a shoes store. Regardless of the motives, these beasts had been given life as purely an experiment, now they served as the brainless watchdogs over the caverns.

Their only purpose was to ensure a line of defence should any neighbour get too brave and venture down below. Yet, they also were allowed to devour any unauthorized mercenaries that decided to take a peek, or those that did not leave the tunnels at the scheduled time.

Hudson had seen what these beasts were capable of, how they could drain the body’s blood in last than three minutes if uninterrupted, or how they could disembowel with one slash. They may look ridiculous and very fragile in structure, but their speed was unmatched. There was even a rumor going around that they were in fact mutation of the Scout, considering how fast they could sprint and how high they could jump. 

At the speeds they could reach just in a jog like pacing, they put the unmodified Scout at full throttle and on Bonk to shame. 

Hunting in pairs of two or three, they weeded out the weak or the stupid and showed no mercy or remorse, just bloodlust without end.

“SHIT!” cried Thomas, fumbling for his wrench, the only weapon the Engineers were allowed to keep when they excavated into the gold troves bellow.

Seeing the movement, the one with darker red fins lunged, the lips pulling back to reveal a crown of pearly white fangs, intent for the Texan’s neck. Scraping his shoulder against the stone to dodge, the labourer swung his steel against the beast’s head, smirking as he heard the satisfying crunch and wail of a wounded animal.

It backed off with a shudder and a frustrated whine, its comrade immediately taking its chance.

Stunned by his successful hit, Thomas failed to react fast enough towards the paler finned counterpart, its sucking mouth tearing through shirt and grime. A wing of blood took flight. The mechanic screamed in agony as his red ink coated the wall and he fell with a thud, his shoulder gushing. Clutching his arm, the male only barely managed to roll away as the beast stomped its hooked paw down hard, hitting the place where the human’s head used to be.

Grunting, Thomas was on his feet again, wrench in one bleeding grip, the other pressed against the wound as he took a defensive stance. The predators looked amused by his display, proceeding to flank him from either side once again, intent of cornering him for the last time.

Hudson shook himself out of the stupor with a hard shiver, voice hoarse as he gripped his own wrench by the neck. “Don’t fight back! Just run you fool!”

Although their rankings in numbers were equal, there was no hope for them. Perhaps if it had been one, they could have killed it but with a mate, their odds were nothing but a dream now.

The stubborn Texan only snarled, lunging forward again, intent on hitting the dark finned one again in the jaw, only to have it step back and out of reach, looking bored. 

That was another thing, although they were brainless and hungry almost every second of their mutated lives, they learned from each battle. Even as they promptly forgot what they had just learned, an auto-erase function whipping the slate clean with each combat situation, they never lost track of the goal when in the heat of one.

As Thomas’ arm came swinging down on nothing but air, the beast he wanted to crush snapped its craned neck forward, locking its impressive teeth around the stained metal. Horrified, the Engineer straggled to pry it free but his moves were halted as its mate clamped its crown of fangs into his forearm.

With a crunch of skin and muscle, a wail of pain, the beast began to drain him.

“Ahhhh!” he screamed in fright, using his wounded arm to beat at the beast’s skull, frantic to get free.

The darker released the steel wrench, letting it fall to the ground, forgotten, with a clang. Circling the distracted prey as it struggled in vain; it clamped its jaws around the gaping wound on the human’s shoulder. With sinister glee it nestled its fangs into the frayed and torn flesh, clamping hard around the bone and tissue.

Hudson staggered backward as they gulped down mouthfuls of blood, not spilling a drop safe of the back splash over the rim of their gapping jaws. Already, seconds into the end, wriggling like a worm on a hook, Thomas’ skin was paling, turning bleach white under the muzzles of two Bottom-Feeders. He would barely last a minute and there was no point in lunging to his rescue. If the procedure didn’t kill him before he reached the three, then the blood loss would.

Without a second thought, the last Texan standing wheeled around on a heel and sprinted towards the exit; racing against whatever time he had left. They hated daylight, he remembered, as he rushed down the halls, panting like a dog on the hunt. If he could just get close enough to smell fresh air, they would leave him be.

But a hissing and flutter of fins made his heart drop long before one of them shoved him aside, his body skidding across the smooth floor several feet away. The hardhat had saved his skull but his exposed forearms burned as angry welts bled from the friction. Shaking his head, Hudson staggered to get up, knowing he had to run, regardless of the odds. But a hissing muzzle flipped him over on his back, a paw as big as his torso crushing with just enough force to keep him still and gasping. Instinctively, he grabbed at the elongated toes V necking his throat, middle toe raised in front of his face, curved talon arched back menacingly. 

It was hopeless he realized, despite his struggling. His wrench was tossed somewhere in the dark tunnel, having flown from his grasp in the impact and he could not compete with the weight of the animal baring down on him, even as slender as it was.

The dark finned beast had let its mate finish off the first and had full intentions of savouring every drop of blood Hudson could give him.

“Please…” he begged, hoping against hope the animal with no reason would see it, “I’ll leave…”

The beast seemed to grin a sadistic smile as it reared back; reach to lunge at his unprotected face when a terrifying sounded stopped all movement cold. 

It was a loud sound, hollow and forlorn, the cry of a creature that had lost all hope in its existence. And yet, there was a shrill menacing undertone within the lamenting yowl, the loneliness morphing to vengeance. It was equivalent to a wolf’s call, but with twitters and cackles towards the end, almost like chirping.

It was a sound Hudson wished he would never hear, the danger he was in increasing at the sound of heavy footsteps casually crawling towards their location. There was also the presence of lighter footfalls, shuffling against the ground, trying to keep up with the long gait of the other.

The Bottom-Feeder whined with a choke that could have been mistaken for a sob, its body shuttering under the new noise as it echoed throughout the catacombs, tail dropping low. 

Helplessly it looked towards the sound, the steps coming from a tunnel to their left, towards the direction they came from but from a different location in the maze. As a massive shape came lumbering towards them, light only barely showing what it was, the beast on the Engineer’s chest backed off immediately, back peddling several feet away.

Another howl, this one furious, came thundering towards them, the true monster of this hell lumbering forward like a cross dragon, large eyes zeroing in on the agile raptor. For several minutes, the machinist could not speak, his heart slamming hard into his stomach, bile gargling at his throat. Warm air huffed from his lips though he knew he could not draw breath, his lung seizing.

Gigantic lips pulled back with an ominous sneer, the howl that followed twisting into words. “Otstupyat Mudak!”

The very air cracked under the pressure of the bellowing sound, thick and baritone, the words starting as a hideous howl before trailing off to clicks and chirps.

Again, Hudson was shaken from his stupor, though his heart struggled to beat properly, cautiously creeping away from the behemoth and towards the wall, hoping against hope he would blend in. Luckily, the monster seemed to show little interest in his worthless hide, focusing all his festering rage on the shrinking Bottom-Feeder, whom looked far too scared to twitch let alone run.

And it had every right to be.

The technician observed the new beast with a mixture of terror and awe, mindful to try and supress his laboured breathing.

The monstrosity stood ten feet tall and forty seven feet long from nose to tall, a bizarre mutation between an Orca whale and a wolf. It resembled more of the Delphinidae family, massive round head and sleek body, a dorsal fin, erect and pointed, sprouting up from its enormous spine. The white occipital crests, as well as saddle patch and pallid underbelly were also present, the waxen markings standing bold against the obsidian body. Unlike the apex marine predator however, the whale possessed four legs instead of fins, enormous appendages rippled with thick muscle and hide to support the heavy weight. The front paws had four fingers and a disposable thumb, whilst the back feet only had four toes. Regardless, all paws were armed with nine inch claws, curved and black, more than capable of ripping the flesh off any combatant. It also supported two long pointed ears, equal to that of a wolf, slightly slicked back as jowls contorted around gleaming fangs.

On closer inspection, the monster taking two lumbering steps forward, Hudson noted how, instead of skin, fur covered its entire body, short yet thick. Another shocking discovery was the lack of fins at the base of the tail, the appendage tampered to be whip-like and more reminiscent of a dog’s.

Without a word of warning, the Whaledog braced itself as its two Brass Beasts, mounted on either side of its dorsal fin by several leather straps and buckles, released a barrage of steel slugs. The cavern was alight with flashes of bright fire and brimstone. The Bottom-Feeder barely had time to turn around, his head disintegrated into a pulpy mess before its lanky legs were clipped from its body.

Like a sack of potatoes, it dropped with a tactless thump, blood splashing across the ground.

The Texan slapped a gloved hand over his mouth to stop the scream that was threatening to release, the elongated barrels spinning dangerously for several seconds before slowly shutting down.

How he had failed to notice to gleaming gold miniguns was a mystery unto itself, considering just one of those metal beasts was almost twice his size. There were also two Bandoliers wrapped haphazardly around its thick throat as well as metal steel bracings on each forearm. 

“Oh please no…” he begged, as he watched, helpless, as the owner of the lighter footsteps came closer, “not them…”

Half concealed behind a massive forearm of his protector, the second figure giggled childishly as he observed the bloody corpse, unbridled mirth stretching his narrow visage and high cheekbones. 

Carefully, he released his white-knuckled grip and dared to approach the corpse, completely ignorant of Hudson’s very presence. He tip-toed across the ground, pausing, standing stock still for several minutes before moving forward again, like a panther preparing for the lunge.

The male was brunette, his mane buzz cut around the base of the skull. What was left was a lush tufted of hair that mostly centered on the cowlick and crown, the bangs sweeping down over his forehead. It was filthy, much like the rest of him, having lived down in the hell for so long with very little attention or care towards himself. His once pristine white doctor cloak was smudged with dirt and grime, a few of the buttons missing from the front and some of the sweeping tail was frayed. His brown pants were tatted and filthy, tucked into blackened boots with noticeable wear and tear.

Clutched in his emerald gloved hand solidified what the Engineer already new, a garish Vita-Saw, stained with blood and a glowing green residue that could be seen smeared at the corners of the doctor’s mouth.

Halfway across the gap between him and the cadaver, the cautious stance altered into a relaxed one, the male almost prancing towards the gore. The beast behind him did not move, it simply disengaged the turrets mounted on its back with a thought, the wires that threaded through man-made holes in its body allowing the option.

“Mary, Mary quite contrary, how does your garden grow?” sang the pale male giddily, his voice betraying his origins as a German pilgrim, “Vith silver bells und cockleshells und pretty maids all in ah row.”

The Whaledog let loose another lamenting call, his tail slapping the ground absentmindedly. It made the Engineer almost soil himself in terror, the sound wave unnerving, thinking he had been seen.

Instead, the German cooed at the messy stain and pranced around it, clutching the needle desperately, mirth making the twenty year old bounce on his heels.

“Look!” he exclaimed, smiling fondly at his bonded partner, “Look, mein Kazimir! Fresh meat! It’s…it’s so…ziemlich…”

A glazed look set over his shimmering blue eyes, but only for a second and it made the Texan’s stomach churn.

The beast, Kazimir, clearly a male name, spoke with another skin chilling howl, his words a little clearer than before. “Poydem…we need to get more…”

Hudson recognized the Russian language this time, which explained the rough and clipped speech pattern.

Another thing that he recognized was that he was safe for the time being. They were here for one thing, their main purpose above breathing and eating if they could find anything.

As the Administrator continued to push for the gems and gold beneath the hellhole, she came to realize, thanks to her scientist efforts, that there was something to be said for the radiation. A small drop of the stuff could run their whole facility for a week, on minimal power yes but just from one drop of the poison was a substantial discovery. She quickly coveted the toxic waste for herself, hoping to find a way of harnessing it as well as purifying it enough where it would do no hard to her underlings up top as well as herself.

After many attempts at mining, it was quickly surmised that although the crystalized masses were potent, they were difficult to mine. A single touch could cripple even the strongest man and yet, the deposits harvested off the bones of the fallen were easily obtainable and just as affective. Although the clones were immune to the sickness of radiation, clumps of the stuff still stained their lungs and stomachs.

Eating and breathing down in the depths had guaranteed that little oversight.

Robots were far too slow and showed tremendous delays in mundane function when under the earth’s crust so any hope of mechanical help was quickly discarded. The Administrator turned instead to the Medic clones, realizing that their understanding of the human body could help them greatly in harvesting the precious material.

It was a marvelous success until the breeding beasts she had created out of sheer entrainment and boredom considered them an excellent food supply. With nothing but a Vita-Saw to protect them, each Medic was helpless under the pressure of ravenous Bottom-Feeders as well as five other garish monsters.

They needed something to protect them from harm whilst they harvested the toxin from the organs and thus, the Administrator turned her attention to the Heavies. It had been a well-known fact that regardless of nationality or background, the closes members within the nine mercenary squads were the doctor and the heavy weapons expert. It most likely had something to do with the jaw dropping power they could unleash as they teamed up on the offence or defence in any arena. Their strengths and weakness leveled out considerably and with the combined efforts, very little could take them down but another duo.

The bond was already there in their genetics and memories, so it seemed only logical that they would work well together in this new situation. And yet, they were both near sighted in the muted light and the monsters down below had advantages that mutation had granted them.

So like the Bottom-Feeders, the Heavies were altered for better performance.

As a whale, echolocation would was a major advantage in the labyrinth, as well as the acute sensing abilities of a canine eager for the hunt. Of course, she had made each Heavy different from the next, possibly, if nothing else, to keep it interesting, but for this dynamic duo, it served them well.

Later on, due to the lack of food, both Medic and Heavy became cannibalistic in nature, eating the corpses they had drained of the radiation. Funny enough however, they strayed from ingesting the toxin itself, though Hudson had heard they debated the action constantly.

The only present problem with the pair, as made clear by the chanting of a nursery rhyme, was the insanity that seemed to take root. They were already balancing haphazardly over the boundary line as bloodthirsty mercenaries fighting for terrain before all this, so it was no surprise that whatever straw had kept them morally stable had finally snapped.

From what he had been told, the worst of the pair was the doctor, many of his class slipping from adult demeanor to that of a five year old before slipping into a persona of madness or paranoia. The list differed between each candidate though the outcome had yet to change.

They were psychotic and emotionally, mentally and physically disturbed, the only grounded body that gave them any comfort being the Heavies they were bonded to.

Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to deter them from the task at hand, which suited the higher-ups just fine.

The German nodded vigorously, eager to get to work, landing hard on his knees as he dropped, driving the long needle into split chest. 

He hummed loudly to himself, an off-tune melody with no name, as blood squirted and oozed. Pulling the trigger back to extract the glowing green substance, it flowed up the glass and into the containment vessel. Every now and again, the Medic would stab a different part of the lungs, his eyes squinting, as if peering through the flesh.

Like they could see through it.

Whether that was due to the modifications or just insanity, the Engineer couldn’t say for certain.

Perhaps it was a mixture of the two?

“Nein…” the physician chided, grimacing in disgust at the body below him, “…he’s filthy…dirty…not pretty at all…such extensive arterial damage…ballistic damage…”

Draining whatever the body would give him, the German’s stoic expression altered again, becoming curious and amiable. With a coo, he pulled at one of the crimson fins that ran down the back of the forearm, giggling as it automatically sprung back.

Childish abandonment did not last however, a look of hunger taking root as a slender tongue washed over his thin lips. Again, the Engineer’s stomach churned in disgust, the Medic reaching with filthy gloves towards the marks of devastation left by the Brass Beasts, tearing off a chunk of frayed muscle. The feeling only intensified as the doctor brought the bloody meat to his nose, taking a deep whiff of the raw muscle.

A surprisingly white trap of teeth tore into the meat, blood dripping down the corners of his mouth and his pointed chin. A moan of pleasure hummed behind clutched lips, eyes rolling back as it slid over his tongue and down his throat, a shiver racing down his spine. Hudson looked away.

“So gut…” he groaned after swallowing the last bit of it, avidly licking his fingers.

He looked ready to dive in for another piece, to tear a larger chunk from the massive ballistic hole in the beast’s side, until he stiffened and blinked in realization. Sitting up straight he turned to his bonded partner, his face empathetic and guilty.

“Kazimir…” he whined, licking his lips, “It’s sehr gut…you vant some?”

The mutated Heavy looked impassive, not really caring with a heave of a sigh.

Regardless, the doctor lunged back towards the carcass, dropping the needle and prying the largest hole in the torso open with both hands. The Engineer felt another wave of bile at the back of his throat and swallowed instinctively to bring it back down, through the back splash burned his sinuses.

Frantic, he fished around in the chest cavity, his face illuminating as he found what he was looking for, tearing the un-beating heart from its home with an unsympathetic tug. Blood splashed upward in an arch, red droplets speckling over the doctor’s high cheekbones. 

The glee was back on his face as he held it tenderly in his gory paws, thrusting it forward towards the beast, looking sheepish. Slops of gory chucks and leftovers were sprayed askew at the robotic movement, glopping on the ground.

“Here!” he said, a red hue flushing over his nose and cheeks, looking down and away, “Have his heart…he does not need it…”

Hudson dared to believe amongst the waves of nausea that the psychotic doctor was acting bashful, a love struck yearling in the presence of a teenage crush, offering his first valentine a heart-shaped card. Only in this instance, it was a real un-beating organ drenched in life fluid, offered to a monster with a mouth that could swallow a grown man whole.

And not chew.

“I vant you to have it…” he purred softly, angling his head back towards the beast slightly, “Bitte?”

Kazimir droned in contemplation, his tail giving a mighty sway as his dark blue eyes bore at the dripping meat. 

Finally, seconds feeling like hours, he relented, large lips fluttering around thick white fangs. Again, an ominous howl twisted into heavy weighted words, thick yet sharp as a knife, “Very well, Gisfrid…”

As Gisfrid, the Medic, sprung up to his feet, bouncing towards his comrade with evident glee, the Engineer finally took notice of how out of sync the Heavy’s lip movements were. When he bellowed a roar, they seemed to move accordingly and yet, as he spoke, Russian or English, they seemed to be lagging, not completely contorting to the shape of the sound. The tongue wagged almost uselessly behind the wall of sharpened pearls.

Giggling and with flushed cheeks, the German tutted playfully only an arm’s length away from the beast, hiding the meat offering behind his back. He wiggled his hips slightly, again acting sheepish, “Open your mouth, bitte.”

The Heavy did not argue, merely cracking that vast mouth open enough for Gisfrid to toss the heart in. 

Instead, the physician purred huskily, his eyes glazing over, as he leaned forward and gently placed the meat in, stroking the saliva coated tongue with tender fingers before pulling back. Completely unafraid as his arm extended between two rows of serrated fangs, into a bear trap that would tear more than just an arm to bits. The heart bobbed on the tongue, dripping and wet, before Kazimir snapped his vice like mouth closed and swallowed.

Hudson watched as the massive neck contracted and flexed, Bandoliers chiming at the movement, eyes following the lump down.

“Guten Junge…” Gisfrid cooed, running a finger over the Whaledog’s battle scarred lips, “you alvays make me happy…”

Kazimir rumbled contently, the feeling of something edible dropping into his empty gut no doubt satisfying the ache that never seemed to completely leave. He pushed up against the small, dainty hand in thanks, giving it a nudge, the action causing a whole different look to twist the German’s features.

The Engineer couldn’t begin to describe it in its entirety, the mask a kaleidoscope of emotions pulling on his facial skin and bloody lips. The drooping eyes, glazed and lusty, said enough though, a violent shutter tearing through his lean body like a knife. In a second, the doctor’s stance became evocative, leaning against the face of the massive beast, gloved fingers gripping at the furry flesh.

A groan of longing reached the mechanic’s ears and he swore he saw the Medic’s eyes roll back in pleasure from the very feeling of the beast pressed against him. “Machen Sie mich einen frechen Jungen. Bitte.”

Not a word of the foreign language hit home for the Engineer, though he knew he had seen the stimulated Medic rut his hips against the mouth of his partner, cooing. It was all heresy to what he did grasp but luckily, the hankering eyes and hungry groping told him enough.

Even though he remembered only scraps of what life was like as a mercenary, thanks of the genes that came before him, he could distinctly remember recognizing something odd transpiring between the two men. There had long been rumors of the Medic and Heavy having more than just brotherly feelings existing between the two. 

It had been one of the reasons the pair had been pick for this job.

It should have been no surprise that the romantic feelings carried on from one generation to the next of pass life converging into one being. Nostalgia for their love to remain transfixed in one time, in a motionless universe, never expending or retreating.

They were stuck in a memory.

Kazimir however looked narked, rearing back with a shake of his head, ignoring the rejected whine Gisfrid voiced, the doctor groping for the heat that was now gone. Azure eyes leveled a stare down at the other, the major height difference giving the brute a lot of power, even before the transformation. The German blinked timorously up at his companion, hands playing innocently with themselves at his front.

“Nyet…” he rumbled huskily, the doctor shuttering zealously under the sound, “…finish your job…”

A downcast look clipped the human’s features, as if he had been slapped. Whining loudly in the back of his throat, the doctor half-extended an arm, fingers uncurled, hesitant yet yearning to touch the massive male. 

“But Kazimir…Bitte!” The tone sounded desperate, like the Heavy was severing their friendship and love affair in one cruel swoop.

Gisfrid took a step forward when the brute did not answer, whom growled darkly at the advance.

It was only a matter of time before they saw him, clinging to the wall like a bashful wallflower, sweating bullets and with a lump in his throat. The Medic clearly wanted some unprofessional attention from the brute in animal skin, even if the muscle didn’t want to at the moment, which was more than enough to keep them oblivious to his presence. 

At least for a few minutes.

Carefully, Hudson stood up from his sitting position, his eyes never leaving the pair as me moved for the closet tunnel. His boots crunched the gravel but not enough to arouse suspicion. His hearing blurred a little as fear numbed his fingertips, though it could have been the cold. 

He knew he could hear Gisfrid whimpering like a dejected puppy, as well as Kazimir snorting curtly at something. Still, it wasn’t any of his business. He just wanted to get Living Quarters Bunker without any trouble as well as mourn properly for the loss of his closest friend. Hudson didn’t need to see how the pair got intimate, or if it was even possible considering the monster’s size. He just wanted to get the hell out.

As his steel-toed boot turned the corner, half way through the threshold of a gaping mouth, his heart floundered with hope.

Crunch!

His heart sunk at the echoing snap as a large chunk of dirt snapped under his weight, breaking the tension like a bat to the skull.

Hudson knew long before he turned around to face his end he was a goner, the automatic whirling of long steel barrels, breathing death like dragon’s flame, rattling his eardrums. He knew what was going to be staring him down like a child would a bug in a jar, with disgust and sick carnage on his mind. What the Engineer hadn’t been expecting was the grisly scars that covered the right side of Kazimir’s face.

Until this moment, he had only seeing him from the left, concealing the damage. Three long rigid scars, trailed down from the crown of his head, where the blowhole might have been, down over his lips and ending at his jaw. They were wide and pink, looking many years old. The thing however that caused a cube of ice to freeze to his already motionless organ was the blood red eye glaring back at him.

The middle scar, marking the eyelid dead center, obviously had caused some permanent bleeding within the whites of the eyeball, resulting in red outlining blue iris. It was a demonic aftertaste considering the rest of the monster in belonged too; the cherry perched on the tip of an ice cream sundae.

What baffled the Engineer, were the scars themselves. As clones, they lost all claim to injuries sustained from their battles as humble mercs out in hopes of the next paycheck. Birth marks were an enigma amongst all the ranks the Administrator had kept. More importantly, considering the Heavy was never without a Medic, no scars or tissue damage should have been present. Although Gisfrid didn’t have it on his person, the Texan could only assume the Medigun was perched somewhere between the two Brass Beasts.

All this taken into consideration, those scars shouldn’t have been there, as well as the many others he was finally noticing crisscrossing over the sides of the Whaledog.

They shouldn’t be there.

What is possible that these individuals weren’t clones at all, but in fact the originals?

The idea was possible, an eerie understanding caressing his heart like a chilled palm. Everything about the Medic and Heavy pair were speculation at best and the fact that no two Medics, or Heavies, looked the same, was another considering prospect.

“Otoydi ot Menya.” Growled the beast, startling the poor clone from his thoughts.

Kazimir stomped a massive paw in front of the Medic, the forearm now a meat shield, hiding him almost completely from view. The movement had also wheeled the beast around, facing him head on with both gun muzzles trained on his little head.

Hudson was unsure what to do in that moment, knowing well enough he couldn’t outrun the gun fire or even Kazimir for that matter. He could just feel his knees wobble as a layer of sweat gathered around his temple.

“Was ist los? Liebchen?” questioned Gisfrid, peeking around the thick muscle, his fingers clutching the armor.

Blue eyes fixing onto his trembling body, the doctor cried out in surprise shaking like a child would behind its mother, face paling.

That wasn’t good.

The hand that was not protecting his Medic, pawed forward like a crouching bull right waiting to charge, looking for a reason. “Mudak!”

Desperate to try and calm the situation, he raised his hands up in surrender. It took him several seconds however to find his voice, the sound scratchy and pitched. “Please don’t shoot, I ain’t gonna hurt you!”

The German however, his only hope at subduing the beast itself, was having no part of it. Shaking hysterically, skin as pale as a sheet, the Medic looked like he was having a panic attack. The possibly was driven home at the sound of his hysterical shouts, some intangible others all too clear.

It was also common knowledge that the doctors viewed anything breathing as a threat, that everyone and anyone would harm them violently. Hence there love and relaxation around anything deceased, uncaring and joyful within the proximity of carnage and decomposition. Heavies had become not only lovers and protectors to these men and women now, but in fact parental guardians, chasing away the monsters under their beds.

Only under the sound of their panicked screams did a truly morbid fury run boiling through the bodies of their knights in armor.

“Ich habe Angst! Ich habe Angst!” he screeched, tears tumbling from his eyes that bugged from his sockets, “Get avay from me! Get avay from me! Get AVAY from ME!”

Hudson continued to slowly back away, hands still up and empty, his heart sinking lower and lower. The hysterical behavior tore something from him, feeling miserable not only for having caused this distress, but also towards the man himself for having no control of the bodily response.

He was completely and utterly depended on the other male, not only for his body safety but for peace within himself.

“Look, I don’t wanna hurt you!” he assured, his throat so swollen it hurt to talk. “I just wanna go home!”

Medic thrashed and shuttered, wrapping his arms tight around the forearm, sobbing like a child meeting his bed monster for the first time. “Keep him avay! Keep him avay! Kazimir!”

A massive paw stepped forward, yet made no further move. “Otstupyat!”

“Okay. Okay.” he relented slowly, taking a longer step back, “I’m going! I’m-Ahhhh!”

A hiss was all he heard before a crowned array of teeth clamped around the back of his neck, breaking skin and bone with but a twitch. Death came swiftly for him, long before blood loss could have been a contributing factor. The world blurred and fuzzed, an out of focus lens with pain splintering across the length of his body. He remembered screaming in agony, body tightening, as if he hoped to fight off his killer, before going slack.

The last thing he saw was the Medic screaming bloody murder at the top of his lungs and his beast of a lover raising his hackles. The last thing he heard however, was the bittersweet hiss of a monster that had got him from behind.

His world tumbled into darkness, but he could not remember finding any peace.

Gisfrid hollered as he pushed himself behind Kazimir’s shadow, pointing at the Bottom-Feeder as if he was a large abnormal tumor. “Schweinhund! Schweinhund!”

Unlike the Engineer, the Heavy did not wait for the creature to choose his next course of action, snarling like a wolf as he set his Brass Breasts free. The death was instantaneous, the raptor being so preoccupied with the flesh of human sweat and grime that he did not see the true danger twenty feet away. Riddled with holes, huge chunks blasted away, the body crumbled onto of the Engineer, into a lake of blood and guts.

The Medic sobbed loudly for several seconds, nuzzling his face into the arm of his protector and lover, slowly easing the shivers of panic into submission. Mucus and salty tears were smeared over ebony pelt but the monster didn’t seem to mind. As smoke plumed in wisps from heated barrels, he groaned softly, leaning more into the doctor’s vice-like embrace.

Finally getting his hysterics under control, Gisfrid dared to move his head away from the warm fur that gave him such a swelling feeling of protection and safety. Warily, still shaking, he peered over the arm, blinking owlishly at the mangled corpses draped over each other.

Shuttering a sigh, he braced himself against that unmoving arm, salty tracks leaving a gleaming sheen around his eyes and cheeks. “Engie und Schweinhund ah dead…” he pointed out flatly, more so to himself.

Trembling under one last shutter, he looked up at his guardian with love and awe, feminine hands ghosting over the fur and steel, “Liebchen…Danke schon…”

He paused for a moment, a choked sob wheezing out his throat. As his shoulders shook, he pressed his face into the fur again. “Ich hatte solche Angst…”

Kazimir pulled his arm away, the German sobbing pathetically at the lack of warmth, until a wet slimy tongue caress his cheek, licking away the tears. The physician moaned with shock and pleasure, pressure stirring in his loins as the tongue swept across the other side of his face. He then found himself face first in a plush rug of obsidian pelt, the forehead pressed softly against his chest. The doctor choked as feelings started to swell within his gut, memories peeking through the haze.

Feeling the smaller body shiver, the brute nuzzled him, his tail giving a modest wag. The human automatically threw himself on the heat, gripping the skin and fur frantically, his left hand ghosting over the three inch deep valleys craved into the other’s head.

The Heavy rumbled, the sound tranquil in the blood aftermath, “I know…I am here…I will always be here…”

“Ich liebe dich.” Gisfrid sobbed again, his heart swelling like a balloon under the affection, wishing he could just melt into his lover. “Ich liebe dich.”

“Ya tebya lyubulyu slishkom.” he admitted, his baritone voice heavy and thick.

The German shook his head stubbornly, mucus smearing against the black fur, “Nein…nein! Ich liebe dich! So viel! I could not barr to live vithout you...” his shoulders shook again, his gloved fingers gripping tighter, “M-mein Gott…”

Kazimir frowned as his scars burned with memory. It wasn’t so much what had happened today that had upset Gisfrid this severally. All Medics down in this hell generally jumped from one emotion to another at the flip of a hat, but generally, the episodes of emotion did not last this long.

It was obvious the German was suffering from another memory, the suffering attempting to disguise itself as something else. Considering the hell they had endured within this prison, it was not too farfetched of a theory.

Emotions were almost fickle that way.

Regardless, the Russian did not move away, letting the doctor wring out the last of his sobs and snot onto his face, not really caring. He had been splashed with far worse things and with but a splash of water, none of it would remain.

They lost so much, their lives beyond this prison nothing more than a delirious daydream that seemed to grow fuzzy with each passing second. They were the originals to which the witch kept restocking her fridge with DNA and tissue, knowing that if they were set free, the world would learn of this abomination and muzzle her greedy ambitions.

They stayed like that for several seconds, until Kazimir knew they had to keep moving. Be it from mental conditioning, his overprotective tendencies towards his smaller lover, or simply paranoia at its finest, he could not say for certain. A nagging voice was chewing on his ear, goading his girth with spurs of glass hard at the thought of being denied.

Slowly, gently, he moved away from his lover, steeling himself with a frown as Gisfrid attempted to follow his moving muzzle, hands groping the air desperately. The Heavy snorted curtly, shaking his massive skull, though he was happy to see a pouted look rather than the distort one.

“We move now…” He rumbled simply, the sound final.

In a flash, excitement was creeping up his visage like a spider, a gleam in his eyes until a sudden though broke the look of glee. He glanced back at the bodies, licking his lips, before eyeing Kazimir.

“Bitte!” he whimpered, pointing at the mangled bodies, “I vant a taste…Bitte?”

The Whaledog considered it for a moment before nodding stiffly, “Da.”

Gisfrid beamed. “Ja. Ja! I vill give you his heart!” he chuckled giddily, almost skipping towards the larger mess, but not before picking up his treasured Vita-Saw. 

“His disgusting greasy heart!” he sang, dropping to his knees over the Engineer’s motionless body, jabbing it harder than necessary with the needle.

“Blood und guts, from friends und mutts, so do not fuss for I do vhat I must.” Green energy flowed like blood into the half full vessel, the physician chanting away. 

Once the corpses were drained of the material, Gisfrid only wandered away from the food to store the full vessel in a small containment box clipped to the belts around the monster’s midsection, right behind the dorsal fin. The Heavy instinctively dropped to his belly with graceful yet dangerous movements, something the Medic watched all too keenly before approaching.

Securing the new vessel into place, he jumped down from the mammal’s back, pausing to watch his protector get up. It was like watching a symphony, a cornucopia of sound transfixed into a mirage of moving muscle, each contraction and relaxation spurring the network of tendons and sinews. It was like watching a god in motion, dominating the land just by traversing the threshold.

It was moments like these that truly showed the raw power Kazimir had at his disposal, before and after the mutation. The sound of muscles in motion had not stopped, nor would it ever if Gisfrid could say anything about it.

Humming, he skipped over towards the bodies before his lover could say anything else on the matter, hurriedly scooping out desirable organs that would please not only his belly, but the Heavy. Heart, liver, kidneys and muscle tissue were torn from the unresponsive hides, carefully looked over by the Medic. Making sure there were no unsightly blemishes or tumors on the meat, scrutinizing every inch of the dripping gore, only till he was satisfied with the harvest.

Giddily, he jumped back to his feet again and placed several of the bloody items in the awaiting mouth, erotically trailing his fingers over the massive tongue and teeth as he placed them in. Kazimir groaned with contentment, swallowing them in a large obscene gulp, the noise making the doctor shutter helplessly.

That tongue wagged over his lips, slurping away the smears of red, the muted light reflecting devilishly off whitened fangs. Hastily, Gisfrid took a large chop out of his prize, a chunk the size of his fist, torn from the Bottom-Feeder. It did not halt that warming pressure between his legs and the blood that was splashed onto his cheek and nose didn’t help either.

“We go now…” rumbled the Whaledog, turning towards the tunnel across from the murdered corpses, “must keep moving…”

The Medic nodded vigorously, hungry for the kill again despite the large chunk in his right hand, “Ja, ja! Lead on Liebelein!”

The beast nodded solemnly, the thrill of the hunt narrowing his pupils, his demonic eye frightening as it narrowed in concentration. “Khoroshiy…”

He then titled his nose to the ceiling, taking deep lungful’s of cold yet stale air their two slits at the front of his muzzle, where the dog nose should have been. It was amazing to see that stalwart chest heave and contract under the power of each breath full.

A wisp of prey lingered, having trotted down this road a few hours before them.

“Poydem.” A group rumbled forth, body pushing into a walk, shaking the ground with each step, the Medic following gleefully in step. 

Gisfrid nibbled hungrily at the flesh as they walked down unless dark corridors, humming tunes from English to German and then back again. The collar of his shirt was drenched in the crimson fluid as he swallowed the final scrap, lazily licking his fingers. Stomach full, his eyes started to droop, the human gradually falling out of step with his companion. The unchanging atmosphere didn’t help him either, the droll landscape and chilled motionless air tugging at his lids.

Pathetically, he stumbled to a halt, quickly latching his arms around the monster’s tail as he continued to move forward.

A normal attempt by any man or woman would not have stopped the lumbering beast. However, the feel of Gisfrid’s arms and the familiarity in his scent caused the behemoth to quell all movement. Throwing his head around to glance at his companion, he was met with the doctor rubbing an eye and emitting a cute high pitched yawn.

“Kazimir…” he whined, tugging on the appendage slightly, “Kazi…fess…”

The Whaledog resisted the urge to roll his eyes, smelling the prey less and less. They had missed their chance for a greater haul.

The Administrator will not be pleased.

“Very well…” he rumbled, getting onto his belly with a massive sigh and Gisfrid beamed, “get up…”

“Danke schon!” Clapping his hands like a giddy child at Christmas, the German lunged towards his partner and hastily clambered up the side of his neck. 

Fisting the fur in a death grip, only sliding twice, he heaved himself up onto the creature’s spine, just behind the skull. Warmth fuzzed beneath in, under the muscle and meat that made the beast’s body, causing a pleasant tingle to swell between his legs and up his back. He shuttered violently, biting his lip hard to keep his body calm though it was very difficult, he straddling the Whaledog’s neck bareback. The German could feel himself losing the battle as his crotch twitched at the comforting pressure pressing against it; how it moved with each breath he took.

When the beast moved to stand, the muscles coiling and releasing, Gisfrid moaned shrilly in pleasure, his stiffening erection accidently pitched by the motion. “Mein Heafy!”

Kazimir ignored the bulged that was pressing into his neck, stomping forward with purpose and guts, eager to get to their den, away from the beasts within this hell. He felt the German flatten himself against him, belly to spine, arms encircling the protector as much as they could. There was a content sigh, a narrow face smothering itself into his back, fingers fisting as much obsidian as possible, even whilst one clutched at the Vita-Saw.

“Ich liebe dich…” he murmured into the fur, “mein ziemlich Kuschelbar…”

Despite himself, the massive male smiled, purring softly in his throat, knowing the vibrations would soothe the human further.

Feeling the body burrow deeper into his skin, murmuring intangible words into his fur, the Heavy quickened his pace, dread smothering the peace like a fire under a tirade of water. 

Tomorrow, the Administrator would come to their den, hungry for the precious material they gathered relentlessly without rest. She would tear them away, caging him whilst they pulled the clumps of radiation from the Medic’s frail body, leaving him only to watch. After all, he breathed and ate meat that was previously infested with the stuff, although immune, he still was a container to be emptied.

Through the bond, he could feel every cut and bruise, every incision and slash like it was inflicted upon himself. The bond she had conditioned, mentally and through the breakthroughs in science giving her total control over the six pairs she had created. Each one from a different place of origin, each one caring the colours of a team not yet founded.

If she said speak, they could find strength to utter a word.

If she said sit, they would find themselves on their haunches before they realized it.

And if she said it was their time to die, then it simply was. 

Frowning, Kazimir ambled down a different corridor, this one whose sides were ragged and unfinished; the cavern’s light barely working. Emitting a chorus of high pitched clicks and snaps, the sounds making Gisfrid purr, the Whaledog heard his way through the darkness, the ground like ice under his paws. For all the strength he had, for all the bullets and guts to tear a combatant to shreds, there was nothing he could do to stop her.

*************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

First things first. Please note that this was a story I had written years ago and was debating for quite some time in posting. I was greatly inspired by Bioshock, one of my all time favourite games. I love all of them, I am not bias in my love for they are all well executed games in my book. I also love Team Fortress so decided to make something of a crossover. I would also like to state, just in case, that these are not exactly the same versions of the teams RED and BLUE. I always liked the idea that the Administrator had cherry picked DNA and more likeable traits for her soldiers, and that all they remembered as memories were nothing more than jumbled facts from several different candidates, that had offered their souls to her. Having not read the lore and just played the game, I figured this made sense as to why they seemed to not question anything about how the other team looked exactly like them, or how they never cared about seeing family members, etc. Of course this was crushed after I read the lore but for this story and when it was written, that was the understanding I had :). As another side note to any that speak German or Russian, please forgive any terrible translations you may see. I have put my trust in google translate but as we all know, that does not always bode very well. Please correct me and give the proper spelling and grammar if you can, I would like it to be right rather than wrong.

I would also like to have your commentary on the story, tell me what you think.

Thank you so much for giving this story a shot. <3


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